


Like Forgetting The Words

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Follow-Up [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5 Things, Gen, Kink Meme, Medical Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Sick Character, Sick Shiro, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8302577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: 5 times Shiro forgot about his metal arm, and one time he was comfortable remembering.





	1. The Emperor

**Author's Note:**

> (Guess who TOTALLY FORGOT to post this one until I saw it was still in my WIP folder!)

Shiro took a deep breath as he sat down and watched the alien across from him. Their movements were smooth and deliberate and achingly slow as they settled as well. The long, stick-thin limbs settled calmly by it’s side, and they watched Shiro right back. Or, ‘watched’, since these species didn’t have eyes. Sensed, he supposed. Frankly, none of them really understood what these beings were like. Even Allura and Coran’s knowledge was frighteningly limited.

But these aliens had held out against the might of the Galra empire for nearly ten thousand years.

Mind, it had been just themselves, and it was more of a neutrality than a complete resistance. The Abynians had the technology to isolate themselves on their planet and defend it to the point that taking over just didn’t seem worth it to the Galra. It would take more resources to take their world than they could mine back out of it, even given the technological boost they would gain. So in return for being left alone, the Abynians had agreed to keep their abilities to themselves and not interfere anywhere else.

Shiro idly wondered about their banking system, but kept the thought to himself.

Now, their job was to convince this culture that it was worth giving up their carefully defended peace for the sake of joining the resistance.

That convincing seemed to involve several complex and esoteric ceremonies. 

This one in particular, involving specific movements and timing and lots of liquid drinking, reminded Shiro enough of tea ceremonies that he’d volunteered. And now he was using all his concentration to remember the exact order and placement.

It didn’t help that apparently this was so simple for the ceremony leader, Ardia, that they could talk while they were performing.

“You ask much of us,” Ardia commented, placing their cup down in front of them, dead center with the design facing Shiro. Shiro reached for the jug and refilled, careful to live an inch of room at the top.

He didn’t reply until the jug was back down in the exact same spot it had been before he touched it. “I prefer to think of it as giving you something, not taking away.”

Ardia paused, tip of one finger on the edge of the cup. It was the first minor mistake Shiro had seen any of them make, and he had the feeling he’d caught Ardia off guard. “How so?”

“Your people may live in safety, but it is limited,” Shiro replied, taking a sip and setting the cup back down. “All this technology, but only on this single planet, and limited to the resources on it. Unable to grow in population and in needs.” He glanced at where Ardia’s eyes would have been on a human, then looked back down at his hands to avoid a mistake of his own. “I notice you have a very robust recycling program.”

Ardia refilled Shiro’s cup next, and this time placed the jug on the other side. It meant something, but Shiro wasn’t quite sure what. Something had changed in the conversation, it seemed. “We are not a wasteful people,” Ardia replied simply. They twisted the cup, showing Shiro the undesigned, clean side instead. “And we have always kept to ourselves, even before the Galra came to power.”

Smiling back, Shiro nodded. “Yes, but there’s a difference between doing it yourself and having it forced upon you. And isolationism doesn’t mean you cannot get what you need from somewhere else.” He rested his hands in his lap and watched Ardia, making himself keep the curved posture that the Ardia considered polite, rather than the military straightness he was accustomed to. 

There was silence, and Shiro didn’t break it as the ceremony continued, content to let Ardia muse. It was less he had to say, and more he could think about the movements. As he picked his cup up for a sip, Ardia finally spoke. “We are not completely isolated now. Though we do not see other beings in person, we do hear what’s going on, occasionally, Champion.”

The address was so unexpected that Shiro’s grip tightened. And the metal fingers of his hand pressed in with more strength then Shiro remembered he had, and the cup cracked.

As liquid started to leak through, Shiro put it down quickly and bit the inside of his cheeks, fighting off curses that would make the mistake even greater. The talks were supposed to end when the ceremony did, and that was it. No second chances, no redos - Shiro may have just lost them a powerful ally because he jumped when called a title he didn’t expect.

When he glanced up, Ardia’s three-fingered hand was pressed against their mouth, and at first Shiro thought he’d managed to offend more than he’d originally thought. But then Ardia let out a slow, clanging noise, and Shiro realized it was their version of a laugh. “Apologies, I did not mean to offend,” Ardia replied, still letting out those metal sounds.

“I’m the one who should apologize. I did not mean to damage your cup,” Shiro replied, and he bowed his head, then realized that was the wrong culture. Whoops. But when he glanced up again, Ardia seemed to have realized it was an Earth gesture, so they returned it. “Is there something I can do to replace it?”

Ardia waved a finger at him, circular and loose, and Shiro assumed it was a dismissive move. “Do not worry, Paladin. We have discussed enough. You raise good points. I will speak on your behalf to our leaders.”

Shiro froze, then relaxed all at once. “Thank you,” he breathed.

“I was sympathetic to your argument from the beginning,” Ardia replied easily. “Our people’s agreement to the Galra’s terms was not out of desire to remove ourselves, but from a lack of better options. Now that one exists, I feel it is in our best interests to join you.” Then they gave the rasping laugh again. “But you were so determined to go through with the ceremony and speak your peace, I did not wish to rob you of the attempt.”

Resisting the urge to scrub his hands over his face, Shiro nodded. Well, damn. “Thank you for indulging me, then,” he replied, and managed to keep his tone from being too ironic.

Ardia laughed again, then stood, slowly and gracefully, like a willow tree in the breeze. It made Shiro’s rise to his own feet seem like a lurch, and he wondered if at some point he could learn to move like that. It certainly made an impression. But his limbs might simply not be capable of that kind of fluid motion, especially the metal one. “You may go join your fellows, Paladin. Enjoy the rest of your stay.”

“May you not need to hurry,” Shiro replied, the phrase awkward in his mouth, but Ardia gave a smile as he made his slow, calm way toward the door. Shiro’s exit was the other direction, and he gave the cup a last look before he slipped out. 

The others were waiting for him, still decked out in the trinkets they’d collected since arriving. It seemed metals were abundant here, especially ones considered precious on earth, but they were severely lacking in organic materials, so all of the team had been draped in jewelry. Keith had yanked his off as soon as was polite, and Pidge had simply handed all hers over to Lance, who was positively covered in the delicate metal wires. Hunk was still still holding onto the headpiece he’d been given, which managed to look like a metal flowercrown with blinking Christmas tree lights. “How’d it go?” Pidge asked, draped sideways in her chair. “They going to join us?”

“I can’t tell you that, but Ardia will speak on our behalf, which is the best we’ll get for now.” Shiro took a seat between Keith and Hunk. “But we really need to do more strength testing with my hand.”

Lance’s brows rose. “What’d you do?”

“Remember that deck of playing cards the other week?”

Hunk winced. “Ouch. But it can’t have been too bad, if he’s still helping us. So, I guess just don’t worry about it?”

Glancing down at the metal fingers, Shiro inclined his head. “I suppose so.” It bothered him, a little, that he’d managed to forget about it. Normally he was deeply aware, but it had become... normal, essentially. He didn’t want it to be. It lessened what they’d done to him, and he didn’t want to forget what the Galra empire really was.

He was startled out of his thoughts when a hand settled on his shoulder. He glanced up to eye Lance, who grinned. “So guess what? We grabbed something for you.”

Uh oh. Shiro eyed Lance’s entirely too satisfied expression. “What kind of something?”

Lance hooked something off the mess of necklaces he was wearing. It looked like some kind of pendant, with dangling chains and twists of metals in bright colors. Still beaming, Lance touched it to Shiro’s metal arm, and it stuck fast. “Their stuff is metallic to stick together, but looks like it sticks to you too. We can pin notes on you, now, so we can’t forget stuff we’re supposed to do.”

Expression still bland, Shiro stared down at it, then back at Lance. “I’m not a fridge.”

“Noooo,” Lance replied, drawing the word out carefully. “Of course not. But it’s pretty, right?”

Shiro stared at him for a moment longer, then cracked a grin. “Alright, a little.”

Lance whooped, then started to tug Shiro up by his arm. “C’mon, you need to see some of the booths. You’ve been inside all day.”

As he was dragged up and out onto the streets, listening to Hunk and Pidge chatter about some of the defense systems and Keith remind them to go back to a food vendor for a second round, Shiro’s eyes kept dropping down to the jangling pendant.

And okay, maybe the arm didn’t just have to be a reminder of what was done to him. Just mostly.


	2. The Moon

“Never again,” Keith grumbled, as they all piled back into the castle. “If the Galra want this damn planet, they can have it.”

At first, the snowy planet had been met with relative happiness. The sky had been clear and the cold temperatures didn’t matter in their suits, considering they were designed for space. Hunk in particular had gasped in utter delight, having experienced snow a grand total of once before in his life, and even then only a dusting. He’d grabbed the distinctly unimpressed Pidge by the shoulders and shaken her back in forth in his enthusiasm, unbothered by her deadpan expression.

And so they’d decided to walk the mile or so of snowy would-be-woods to the caves, in the hopes of finding an old stash of mini control crystals and tech that had been left there 10,000 years ago. It was a huge long shot, obviously, but when they’d passed the planet, it had seemed to be worth a chance, at least. The stress-free mission, combined with the pretty planet, had caused a general sense that this was a vacation rather than anything important. 

So Shiro hadn’t really hurried the team with any seriousness, letting them run around a little and enjoy the fun. The snowball fight he had ended, but only because the Lance-and-Hunk team-up had made the poor choice of not directly throwing snowballs, but instead aiming for the tree branches, dumping a couple feet worth of snow onto Pidge.

At that point, Shiro had stepped in because he wasn’t sure Pidge wouldn’t suffocate them in a drift somewhere. He also suspected he’d ended up on her shitlist for laughing so hard when he helped her out of the snow they’d buried her in, but he’d worry about that later.

Of course, they’d all regretted their choice to walk when the blizzard started up.

After about half an hour of fruitlessly and half-heartedly searching for the crystals through the cave system, Keith had cleared his throat. “Uh, guys? Do you hear that?”

Pausing, Shiro narrowed his eyes, listening as well. His immediate thought was _animal_ or _ambush_ , so he hadn’t thought twice of the sound of gusting wind for several seconds. Then he remembered that when they’d come in, there hadn’t been wind at all.

Shiro’s eyes went wide. “Princess?” He called into the helmet. “Coran?”

No response at all.

“The wind is probably jamming the signal,” Pidge muttered, heading toward the entrance. “I think, anyway. It’d have to be a hell of a windstorm- oh.”

It was, in fact, a hell of a windstorm. And the sheer volume of snow didn’t help.

Luckily, although communications between them and the castle wasn’t working, the signals between their helmets were fine at such close ranges, and they were still mostly protected from the elements in their suits.

But they were still a mile away.

“It might go down, right?” Hunk asked, looking out at the blizzard like a child who just found out their new puppy bit. “We could wait a bit.”

Lance crossed his arms, lips twisting. “Who knows how long that could take, though. And we didn’t bring any supplies with us.” His brows raised. “Though, we’re certainly not low on water.”

“We are low on ways to warm it up,” Keith shot back. “And do you want to drink it without boiling it?”

Thankfully, rather than take offense at the tone, Lance made a face. “Eugh. No.”

And then they went quiet, waiting for Shiro’s call. He considered, staring out into the blank grey sheet that had been a forest not long ago. “Our helmets will make sure we don’t get separated and aren’t going the wrong direction,” he muttered. “But visibility is horrific and who knows what the conditions are like under all that.” Leaning against the wall, he sighed. “We’ll wait twenty minutes and see if it makes a difference. In the meantime, we’ll give the cave a final sweep for those supplies, because I don’t think we want to have gone through all the effort and missed what we came for. Then we’ll decide.”

Twenty minutes later, the weather was completely unchanged. “Alright. Stay close, and if you even think you might get separated, grab onto someone in front of you. I’d rather have us take it slowly and keep within arm's length then have to go back and track down someone who got left behind, got it?”

A chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ were his answer.

“Right,” Shiro muttered. “And helmets on zero atmosphere mode. Frostbitten lips probably aren’t fun.”

Lance covered his mouth as if even thinking it was causing him pain. “Good point. Can’t deny the world these babies.” The bottom half of his helmet formed the moment his hand was out of the way. “Who first?”

For a moment, Shiro considered telling Lance he was first, just to see his reaction. Then he stepped forward out of the shelter of the cave.

He immediately fell over from the force of the wind. “Be advised,” he muttered dryly, as he pushed his way back to his feet. “Conditions are icy.”

“Our fearless leader,” Pidge muttered, sounding like she was speaking directly into his ear from the microphone, and echoed slightly from her closed helmet. “So glad we have you here to get to the truth of the matter.”

Hunk chuckled. “Where no one has tripped before.”

Shiro sighed, and bit back a comment of his own. “Focusing, please.” And then, because he couldn’t help himself, “before someone gets left behind on Hoth by accident.”

Someone grabbed hold of his hand, and Shiro glanced back to see Keith stubbornly clinging. His footing seemed shaky at best, and when Shiro took another step forward, he slid on the icy ground. “This planet is the worst.”

Shiro didn’t disagree.

About an hour later and countless falls, they finally, _finally_ made it to the damn castle. And it had not been worth it.

Brushing off the snow still stubbornly clinging to his armor, Shiro pulled off his own helmet. “Please get us out of here.”

“Are you all alright?” Allura asked, eyeing them carefully. She was was keeping several feet away, which was wise, given the rate at which they were dripping onto the floor. “The storm came up faster than we could detect it, and we assumed you’d try and wait it out.”

Shiro sighed. “We didn’t know how long it would take.” And because he was tired and ached from falling a dozen times, and he hadn’t eaten an especially hearty breakfast, he nodded toward the door. “Do you mind if we warm up and get settled before talking? The short of it was that the cave was empty.”

“Such is life,” Coran mused philosophically, in the way of someone who hadn’t suffered for the loss, and for whom it was no big deal. “Can’t win them all, but you know what they say. You can’t score in Jiggerban without throwing the hoops.”

Pidge blinked slowly at him. She opened her mouth, but then seemed to think better of it. For which Shiro was so, so grateful.

Eyeing them shivering and grumpy Paladins, Allura nodded. “Yes, please take a few moments. We’ll resume our journey shortly.”

Nodding his own thanks back, Shiro shooed the group of them out the door before someone could say something bad tempered. Including himself.

Once the others split for the showers or their rooms, Shiro made a bee-line for the kitchen. It turned out, dragging a chain of sliding paladins through a couple of feet of snow worked up an appetite. 

He pulled the gauntlet off of his natural hand and started to root through the pantry, looking for- aha! Hunk had been using dried fruit recently, and Shiro had thought there must be a stash somewhere. Taking out a handful, he held them in his natural hand and wandered toward the cabinet for the glass. Without thinking, he reached down with his metal hand, picked up a piece of fruit, and popped it into his mouth.

The moment his tongue brushed the metal of the fingers, it stuck fast.

Oh. Oh no. He’d not only not thought about the fact that his arm was metal, but that it had been exposed to the freezing blizzard for a couple of hours.

Sticking his tongue out as far as it would go, to keep his fingers from freezing his lips next, Shiro was still mentally kicking himself when the door slid open. Shiro stared, eyes wide, as Coran wandered in.

It must have made an interesting sight, at least. At least, Coran seemed to think so, because he almost immediately started to chuckle.

Making a wounded noise, Shiro huffed at him. Not funny. In fact, mostly painful and very annoying.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Coran remarked. “Normally, Nunvil is best at room temperature, but it can be taken warm, if that’s your preference.” He paused, then smirked. “It also has the benefit of having a very low freezing temperature.”

Shiro shot him a bland look, but sighed and nodded. His arm didn’t seem to be warming at any reasonable rate, and a warm drink was probably the fastest way to get himself loose.

Settling against the counter, he watched as Coran hummed to himself, pulling out a pan and pouring the Nunvil into it, then setting it on the heating element. “I suppose apologies are in order,” Coran replied, voice still cheerful, but this time a bit less honestly.

Shiro’s brows rose, and he made a curious noise. “Waa faah?”

For a moment, Coran paused and glanced back, trying to figure out what Shiro had said. The translators probably didn’t work very well when he couldn’t pronounce anything properly. But then he seemed to figure out Shiro had been encouraging him to go on. “The storm came up quick on our radar, but that was no reason not to try and inform you until it was too late. I was the one monitoring, and thus I take responsibility for it.”

“Daah waaehh,” Shiro started, then groaned. “Unn minaah, oaay?”

Watching him in dry amusement, Coran gestured for Shiro to move over. He pulled the Nunvil off the heating circle and poured it in a cup, then drizzled a small stream over his hand, making sure it wouldn’t burn. Once it tested clear, Coran had him lean over the would be sink, then poured it down his hand. Slowly, the metal warmed up enough that Shiro was able to detach his tongue with minimal skin tearing.

Working his tongue in his mouth, Shiro winced. “Okay, I think I shouldn’t do that again.” Once he was pretty sure he hadn’t done any damage to himself with that, he shook his head. “You didn’t know it would come up that fast. One second it was calm, and then suddenly the wind was howling. If anything, we should have waited longer, but without supplies I wasn’t comfortable staying around.” Shiro shrugged one shoulder. “Call it a slip on both our parts, so we’re even.”

Coran smiled back and patted Shiro’s shoulder. Hard. He fought off a wince. “You’re a good lad. Now, I’m not a fan of my Nunvil warm, but there’s no sense letting it go to waste, is there?” He eyed Shiro for a moment, taking in the snow still dripping from his armor and the general fatigue he held himself with. “Perhaps you could use it.”

“Probably,” Shiro muttered. “Thanks for the help.”

“Not a problem at all.” That earned him another clap on the shoulder, just as hard, and Shiro didn’t manage to hide the flinch this time. “You go have a nice rest. And this time, try not to eat anything with a frozen metal hand.”

Saluting sarcastically, barely more than a tap of his natural fingers to his hairline, Shiro collected his drink and food and wandered to the door, trying to pretend he didn’t hear Coran starting to chuckle again.

Well, he wasn’t going to be forgetting his arm’s temperature again, if he could help it.

Though, hm. Did it do the same in open space? That would be an interesting experiment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely unnecessary translations:
> 
> "What for?"
> 
> "Don't worry." ... "One minute, okay?"
> 
> And because it came up before: Yes, Shiro's metal hand is exposed in the suit. It seems to cut off at the wrist. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to use it in combat.


	3. The Magician

They were pinned.

And try as he might, Shiro couldn’t think of any way out of this. Not while keeping everyone safe. “ETA,” he called to Hunk, who was elbows deep in the generator they were sabotaging. Pidge’s program was ready to run, since they’d had the benefit of prepping that beforehand, with minor adjustments on site.

They hadn’t planned out needing more time to hook into the machinery, but it turned out, Galran generators were different from what they’d all assumed, and Hunk had in task of trying to hook it all up on the fly. It hooked onto the external mechanisms by magnets, but the connections they had added to go inside weren’t compatible. 

It had taken five extra minutes so far. And those were all minutes they didn’t have.

“30 more seconds,” Hunk replied, voice low and shaky. “Just a few more wires.”

The door shook from the fire it was taking. The lock had been shot by Lance, but that wasn’t going to keep out the drones forever. It wasn’t even going to last 30 seconds.

“Paladins,” Allura called into their helmets. “We cannot take any more fire on the castle. We need you out, _now_.”

Hunk groaned. “Okay. I- I got it!” The door shuddered and the metal buckled, not quite letting them in. “Let’s go!”

Steeling himself, Shiro turned to face the door. “All of you get out. I’ll cover you.”

There was immediate silence.

“No,” Keith snapped coldly. “Unacceptable.”

“Agreed,” Pidge added. From the corner of his eye, Shiro could see Hunk pulling himself out of the generator and scowling at him.

“I don’t recall opening this for discussion,” Shiro shot back. The door jolted again, and now he could see a robotic hand wrapping around where it was bent, trying to shove it open the rest of the way. “We won’t get out if we’re running with our backs to them. So go.”

Lance let out a quiet noise of refusal. “You don’t even have a long range weapon. You should let me-”

“It’s an _order_.” He turned to look at them, arm activating. “Just activate the destruction sequence when you’re out. Go now, or else-”

The door crashed to the ground with a noise like shearing metal, and they all jumped. Robot eyes glowed at them, and Shiro’s stomach dropped.

Then the lights dimmed.

There was a click of the intercom system turning on. “Aggghhh!” Coran howled into the microphone. “The castle was breached, aghhh, my internal organs are melting!”

Then there was a scuffling noise, probably from Allura snatching her microphone back. “Too late. You were overrun and the mechanism was unable to be detonated before the castle was taken. We’ll be speaking shortly.” With that, the microphone clicked off, thankfully before Coran could start up again.

Pulling off his helmet, Shiro stared them all down. “In a future situation, I expect my orders to be followed.”

Pidge crossed her arms and scowled right back, undaunted. “We were too late anyway. And in a future situation, don’t give an order like that.”

“That’s not your call. It’s my job to make the final decisions on this, not yours. You _will_ listen to me, or else you can’t be trusted in the field.”

“That’s not fair!” Keith snarled back.

Shiro arched a brow back, unimpressed. “I wasn’t aware the chain of command was designed with fairness in mind. Seems I’ve been doing it wrong, since suddenly my orders are ‘if you feel like it’.”

“This isn’t the Garrison,” Hunk objected quietly, but he set his jaw and stood up straight. “I don’t think anyone should try and make that kind of sacrifice, if we can help it.”

Sighing, Shiro brushed back his bangs from his face. “Then we lose five pilots and the rest of the bayards instead.”

“Look,” Lance interjected, glancing between everyone. “Can we talk about this later? We’re all about to get yelled at, I don’t want to argue too.”

And as frustrated as Shiro was, that was reasonable. They’d all just failed a stressful training session, and so they were more likely to end up with yelling than a reasonable discussion. “Alright. After.” Scrubbing over his face, he sighed. “Let’s cool down before the debriefing. Go clean up.” Picking his head up, he glanced at Hunk. “You need help breaking back down?”

Glancing over at the ‘generator’, Hunk nodded slowly. “Yeah, actually, that’d help. I need to get it back out.” As the others slipped out to hit the showers, Shiro glanced into the complicated and dark internal mechanisms of the machine. “Can you just hold onto the detonator?”

“Sure.” Shiro picked it up and held it. It beeped quietly as he did, and he glanced at it curiously. A little green light blinked on the side. “So long as it won’t blow up on me.”

“It’s a EMP more than a explosive,” Hunk replied easily. “It just basically has the same effect as a small charge. Turns off everything, and they’ll go completely out of control and lose all their internal gravity and life support long before they can fix it. And with all the heavy equipment floating around in here as the ship loses momentum, I wouldn’t want to be a soldier caught up in it.”

Hunk hummed quietly as he disconnected the wires, and Shiro idly wondered if he’d been wrong about who the scariest of the paladins was.

Well, okay, it was still probably Shiro.

“Alright, that’s everything. You wanna just set it down in a corner somewhere? It’ll be okay there until we try again.”

Shiro nodded. “Sounds good.” Walking to the nearest wall, he set the detonator down. But when he stood, it came back up with him. “Oh. Oh no.”

Glancing over, Hunk frowned. “What’s wrong?” Then he realized Shiro’s metal hand was stuck to the cheerfully blinking magnetic device. “Ooooh. That was silly.”

“Thank you, Hunk.” Shiro planted his foot on the device and tried to yank his hand up, but it wasn’t coming off at all. “Will you please deactivate it?”

Hunk went pink. “Um.” Instead of looking directly at Shiro, he fiddled with the cords in his hands. “It, uh, doesn’t really turn off? I didn’t want it to get taken off once it was activated, so now it won’t turn off until it loses it’s charge.”

Swallowing, Shiro took a deep breath. “And how long would that take?”

“A few days?”

Well. They couldn’t say he hadn’t brought this on himself. Sitting down next to it, Shiro rolled the device on it’s edge. “And our other options are...?”

Hunk sat down next to him, pulling the device into his lap. “Give me a second.” While he was working he frowned deeply.

Studying his face, Shiro sighed. “You okay?”

“I...” Hunk glanced at him, then away. “I just- I’m sorry, is all. If I hadn’t taken so long, we wouldn’t have failed the test. And then I asked you to do this. Sorry.”

Shiro reached out with his other arm to squeeze Hunk’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s fine. I should know better than to pick up things that are magnetized. It’s my arm. And none of us thought twice about the connections. We just expect you to pull magic out, and that’s not fair on you. So if we failed here, I’d rather it be when we can fix it than on a mission.”

Hunk nodded, though his shoulders were still slumped. “Yeah. You’re right. Doesn’t make it feel good to mess up.”

“No, no it doesn’t. But we’ll do better next time. I’m not mad at you for taking that long. You rewired an alien generator of unfamiliar design in five and a half minutes, Hunk. That’s not anything but impressive.” He leaned back against the wall, watching idly as Hunk twisted his arm so he could access different parts of the device.

Hunk glanced at him. “But you are mad we didn’t obey your order.”

Snorting, Shiro nodded. “Mad might not be the right word. Frustrated. I give you guys a lot of leeway, and it’s... upsetting, to know that it might backfire in a way that gets you all killed.”

Hunk’s hands tightened suddenly. “See, that’s the thing. It doesn’t feel like the Garrison here. I mean, we listen to you, you’re our leader, but it’s not just because you’re higher ranked It’s that we trust you, and we trust Allura and Coran. I don’t feel like a cog, here. I feel like I can contribute to something big and cool and special. So I get that we have to listen to you, but making it about the chain of command... I don’t like that.”

Closing his eyes, Shiro tilted his head up toward the ceiling. “I can understand that. But no matter how much we like it, I can’t lead you guys effectively if I don’t think you’ll listen to me. We can’t stop and argue about this stuff. It could get us killed.”

“Can we talk it out beforehand?” Hunk asked, voice thick. “Because... Shiro, I don’t think I can do that. I can’t leave someone. I don’t want to, either.” He took a deep breath and curled in on himself more, until he was practically cradling Shiro’s arm. “I know it’s a big picture thing. I get it. But I also don’t want to be that person.”

Shiro sighed. “I wish it wasn’t a choice you would ever have to make. But, what we do is dangerous and important. I can’t-” Glancing over at Hunk, he paused. “We’ll discuss it. I can promise you that. We’ll all talk it out, that way it doesn’t get sprung on you like that.”

That seemed to be enough, because Hunk slumped. “Yeah. That’s better, at least.” He flicked open a panel on the detonator and seemed to fiddle with it. “Um, okay. So, I changed the settings on this, so the EMP will be a lot smaller. That’ll blow the charge and it’ll come off. But it’ll turn off your arm for a little bit. A couple of hours, maybe. After that we can manually charge it back up.”

“Well, it’s better than a few days,” Shiro replied dryly. “It won’t hurt the room?” When Hunk shook his head, Shiro waved him on. “Alright, go for it.”

It was odd, to suddenly lose control of his arm. It went limp as the detonator tumbled away. Tugging at his shoulder, Shiro got it off of Hunk’s lap. But the weight of it dragged him forward, and he ended up hunched forward. “Oh. I don’t think I ever realized how heavy it is.”

Sliding his hands under, Hunk scooped the arm up, and helped Shiro stand. “Yeah, it’s pretty bulky. Usually it helps regulate itself for you. I’d think you’d know how heavy it is, though, since that time you soccer-mom-arm’d Lance so hard you bruised his chest.”

Shiro winced. “Yeah.” He still felt bad about that, too, despite how hilarious Lance still found it. “Can you just help me get to the briefing room.”

Brows raising, Hunk glanced down. “Huh. I really am kind of in control of you right now, huh?”

“Which is why I’m very glad it’s the responsible and kind paladin who was there to help me,” Shiro replied, eyeing him blandly.

Hunk groaned. “Aww, don’t guilt me, I’m not gunna do it.” As they walked, he glanced at Shiro. “Hey. Quick thing. Not even looking for a response, yet, so... just think about it, okay?” When Shiro nodded, Hunk swallowed. “If it was a time you needed to order the sacrifice play, would you ever ask it of anyone but yourself? Even when that was the ‘right’ thing to do?”

Shiro opened his mouth, then he froze.

He’d always put himself in that spot, without thinking about it. Even when it technically made more sense, like Lance pointing out that he didn’t have a long distance weapon.

Shiro had never imagined he’d give the order to make someone else sacrifice their life. Yet he was ordering them to do it instead.

Oh.

Nodding, Hunk focused his eyes forward. “Just think about it.”

It probably didn’t change much, except give him a different perspective and possibly new nightmares.

But it was something to think about, for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magnets, how do they work?


	4. Strength

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HTML issues fixed, whoops.

It was the banging that finally woke up him.

Shiro groaned and cracked his eyes open. Someone was pounding on the door, loud enough that his head throbbed. It was loud and fast. Impatient. Like they’d been knocking for a while.

Sitting up, Shiro calculated the distance between his bed and the door and decided it was about ten miles too long. Still, he dragged himself up onto shaky feet and leaned on the wall and furniture as much as he could until he could touch the control panel. The door slid open and Lance stuck his head in. “Hey, you missed breakfast, then you never showed up to- oh. Dude, you look _awful_.”

Shiro was vaguely aware he’d normally object to that, or at least joke about it, but right now he _felt_ awful. “Think I caught something,” he muttered, leaning against the wall. “You should go. Dun’ get sick.”

“Man, I don’t know if I should leave you alone,” Lance mused, eyeing him up and down, especially where he was leaning against the wall, legs too weak to hold him up. “I’m gunna go get Allura and Coran.”

Dammit, Shiro didn’t want that. He wanted to lie back down and go back to sleep, not to be fussed over and talked to and have to interact and pretend he didn’t think he was dying. But it was probably at least good for everyone to know. And best case scenario, Lance told them and they decided to just leave him be. So Shiro nodded. “Okay. Gunna lie back down.”

Lance’s head bobbed. “Yeah. Good idea. You do that. I’ll be back.”

With that he ducked back out, and Shiro could hear him running down the hall at a full sprint. Rubbing at his forehead, Shiro glanced back at his bed, and the ten miles it was going to take to get bac.

He didn’t make it.

***

When Shiro blinked his eyes open next, he didn’t know where he was.

He was in bed, but not his. At least, he thought it was a bed. There was a blanket. That made it a bed, or close enough to it.

There were voices around, low murmurs, but even that level was making his head pound. “...temperature is well beyond recorded norms.” Someone said. “It’s higher than we’ve ever seen for him.”

Shiro tried to concentrate on that, to figure out what was going on, but when he shifted, his stomach seized. Panic gripping him, he forced himself up, looking for a trash can, for some kind of container.

“Shiro?” A higher pitched voice than the last, though with the same lit. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be-” Snagging a metal basin off a nearby table, Shiro emptied his stomach. “Oh. Oh dear.”

Once he was done, the basin was taken away, and a cold hand pressed against his forehead. Shiro tensed at first, not expecting the touch, but he quickly relaxed. There was a quiet, purring feeling in him that said he was Safe, and that was enough for the moment. So he allowed himself to be pressed back down without a fuss.

And while he was distracted, they’d continued to talk. “-into the healing pod?”

“Yes, I think that’s wise,” the higher voice responded. “How long do you estimate?”

A thoughtful pause, and the sound of tapping. “Less than a day. Faster than he’ll recover on his own.”

Him. They were talking about him? What were they doing? Discomfort overwhelmed the background purring, and Shiro curled in on himself protectively.

“They want to see him. Lance is still shaken from finding him,” the deeper voice continued. “A quick visit shouldn’t put them in too much danger, especially if they promise to clean off after.”

No verbal response. They might have nodded in response? He was losing track. Who wanted to see him? Why?

One of them moved closer, and Shiro could blearily see red hair before he closed his eyes again. “Alright, Number One, let’s get you all settled.”

Unable to help it, Shiro cracked a grin. “M’kay, Capt’n Picard.”

The red haired one paused. “Who?”

“He’s delirious, Coran. Just get him ready for transport.”

The bed under him shuddered and started to move. It was on wheels? But it didn’t feel like it - he couldn’t feel the floor under him, the subtle shake of something moving along the ground. Confusion led to discomfort again, and he started to push the blankets off, trying to see and move.

That was when he saw the metal.

That wasn’t his arm. What had happened?

Shiro reached down and scraped his fingers against the metal, trying to get it off. His arm had to be under there. He could still feel it. Where else could it have gone?

“What- Shiro!” The higher voice cried, then a hand snagged him.

He stared up at the person, seeing but not really taking in the dark skin and pale hair. “Where’s- what happened...?”

“Oh, Shiro,” they murmured back. When he tried to tug his hand back to continue, they held strong, grip surprisingly vice-like, considering how small their hands were. Shiro’s brow furrowed and he gave another yank, but his hand didn’t move at all. “I’m sorry. Please, leave it alone for now.”

Not really hearing the plea, Shiro continued to yank until he was finally released. Then he stared down at the arm, slowly moving the fingers. Why could he do that? It was metal, but it moved like it was his.

Meanwhile, the bed continued to move along, gently carrying him after the red haired one. The white haired one stayed behind, within touching distance, and if it hadn’t been for the Safe feeling Shiro would have tried to get away. Not that he probably would have gotten far.

Noise up ahead made Shiro pause, and he picked his head up to glance ahead. They were coming to a big room with strange, short pillars, with a small group already there. As they came closer, the purring feeling in his head got stronger, more urgent.

“Hey there,” one murmured, placing a large, cool hand on his forehead. Yellow. Why was Shiro so sure of that, when he didn’t know what was happening, couldn’t concentrate on who was around him? “You scared Lance, you know.”

Another - Blue, Shiro knew, - jumped. “It wasn’t being scared, I was _concerned_.” But he too moved closer, hovering just shy of touching.

Good. Shiro needed them close. He needed to protect them, even if he was weak now. He started to reach out, driven by some instinct, but he spotted the metal again and groaned, reaching for it.

“Stop him, please,” the pale-haired one said, somewhere behind him, and Red caught his hand just as Shiro started to scrape. He struggled against the grip, because they didn’t understand, that wasn’t him, he needed it gone, he wanted his own arm back, _please_ , but words were too hard and he didn’t have the strength to resist without hurting them.

“What’s wrong with him?” Green asked, voice small. Worried. Shaky.

No, wait, that wasn’t okay, they weren’t supposed to be scared. Distracted from his goal, Shiro forced himself up, panting, and ignored the sweat prickling at his forehead and the aches in his muscle. Something was scaring them, and he needed to fight it. He was going to make it better for them. That was most important, above all else.

But it was so, so hard, when he was wavering in place just from this.

“Hey, there,” Yellow muttered, taking his hand away, and instead wrapping his arm around Shiro’s shoulder, keeping him from toppling over. But then he leaned him back, encouraging Shiro to lie back down. Blue was there too, one hand on Shiro’s chest, gently keeping him from trying to pop back up. Since he couldn’t, Shiro held onto the hand instead, clutching it close and glancing around, trying to understand where he was, what was happening, what was wrong with him?

Pale-hair sighed and stepped over, watching. Shiro clutched the hand closer and curled up, placing his other hand and feet flat on the bed, ready to spring up. Pale-hair might be Safe, but he wasn’t going to risk them. Nothing would touch them. “He must have picked something up on the last planet. It’s mostly a high fever, with occasional nausea, though if there are other symptoms he’s not in the right mentality to tell us. We’re trying to get him to the pod to clear it out of his system.”

“I think you’re going to have a problem with that. He’s so out of it,” Green muttered, stepping closer. And that was good, because Shiro could reach out with the Wrong arm and wrap around her back, pulling her closer. The effort left him shaking - or maybe he had been shaking this whole time, he wasn’t sure anymore - but the was better. “Woah, um- wow, you are warm, eugh.” Green squirmed, but Shiro just hooked his chin over her head. She was the right size for that, he could do it. The others were too big, but he’d work around that.

Hands grasped at Shiro’s shoulder, gently tugging him back from Green. “C’mon, Shiro, you’re only going to get her sick, too. Do you want that?” Shiro blankly shook his head in response. “So let her go and let’s get you feeling better, okay?”

Shiro never really let go, just loosened his grip a bit, and Green yanked herself away, then slumped when he let out a pained noise in response.

“Let’s get him in,” Red muttered. “He’s going to hurt himself at this point, and I don’t think he’s going to stop on his own.”

Red-hair stepped closer. “Right you are. Let’s just get him up. C’mon, Shiro, just for a few seconds, let’s get you in.” He put an arm under Shiro’s knees and back, then lifted him up with nothing more than a grunt.

The whole world shifted, blurring and twisting until Shiro felt his stomach rebel anew. Then he started to move toward the strange pillars, and recognition suddenly sparked in his mind.

Those were healing pods. He knew those. He’d be trapped in them and away from the others, unable to protect them.

“No,” Shiro snarled, and went _wild_ , or as much as he could. With a crackle, the Wrong arm came alive. Startled, Shiro pushed it away from himself, both trying to get away and kick off from Red-hair at the same time. The resulting mix unbalanced them both, and he fell, crashing onto the ground.

Oh. That was... his stomach did not like that. The arm sputtered out like a light bulb dying, but Shiro could barely react because he was too busy trying to make the world be still again.

“-ro, hey, buddy, you okay?” It was Blue there, kneeling in front of him. “Do we have to put him in? I know we can’t have him out of commission for days but... just until he’s a little more with it. Or at least asleep.”

Yellow made a noise of agreement. “He doesn’t want to. I don’t think we should make him.”

“We’re just gunna let him stay sick when we can help him?” Green, then, and Red wasn’t far behind, supporting her.

Vaguely, he thought he should care more about the subject, but it was so hard to pay attention when the world and his body were both so out of his control.

Then Red was in front of him, on the other side of Blue. He cupped his hand to Shiro’s cheek and tugged his head up until he met his eyes. “Shiro. Focus on me, just for a second. Okay?”

Wait. He knew him. “Keith,” he murmured, brows furrowing.

“Did you not know- nevermind,” Keith shook his head, then met Shiro’s eyes again. “You need to go in the pod. You’re very sick. Do you want to get better?”

Giving a tiny, bobbing nod, Shiro closed his eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Then will you let us put you in the pod?” Shiro shook his head. “Why not?”

Shiro stared at him like Keith was the one fever-addled. “Won’t be there. Something happens? Can’t help.” His hands found the front of Keith’s armor, clutching at the edges. “Need to be there.”

“Well, you’re not much help now,” Keith replied honestly, and not unkindly, but Shiro still flinched.

Then Blue groaned and pushed his way into Shiro’s line of sight. “Ignore him, he’s a jerk. But you’ll be able to do that better when you’re not sick. It won’t be long. Remember when I did it?”

Well, no, because Shiro’s memories seemed to just be offline. But Blue was so easy and confident about the whole thing that his shoulders slumped and he nodded. That made sense, he thought. He just...

He didn’t want go to in there. There was a bone-deep feeling that it was bad, that it would hurt him, that it would cause Bad Things.

The shoulder near the Wrong arm throbbed and ached.

“Okay, then,” Blue replied, though his voice was shaky. “C’mon, let’s get you up.” He shifted forward, getting under one of Shiro’s arm, and motioned for Keith to get under the arm, though he was already half-way to doing it. “And, you ready? Okay... one... two.... Up!” They dragged him to his feet between them.

The door opened as they stepped closer, and Shiro flinched from it, but didn’t fight the way he had before. He let them place him inside, leaning heavily against the back, and didn’t fight as the pod door closed. Through the little window, he could see them all watching, worried, and Shiro’s had to swallow back against the sudden urge to break through the door and get back to them. He was supposed to be keeping them from feeling that way. This wasn’t right.

Then the temperature dropped, and Shiro’s eyes fell shut despite his best efforts.

And his final thought was that maybe this would fix whatever had happened to his arm, too.


	5. Death

Honestly, aside from little moments of forgetfulness, Shiro had a lot of trouble forgetting about his arm. Even if he could feel through it, even if the weight didn’t feel like much more, it was always there. Worse, it was his dominant hand, so he a tendency to reach out with it often and remind himself.

But, he didn’t tend to think of it as _parts_. When he looked down at the metal arm, he wasn’t any more likely to think of it as wires and gears and machinery as he was to think muscle and bone and tendons when he looked at the other. They were arms, and to him, they worked the same way. He thought, and they moved as a unit.

It didn’t occur to him that others might view them differently, except on the rare occasions he allowed Pidge and Hunk to take a look inside.

Which made it all the worse when he opened his eyes and found himself on a table, surrounded by dozens of pieces of metal, from tiny screws to large casing.

And the casing was familiar.

With his brow furrowed, Shiro tried to move his fingers. And they didn’t respond.

Eyes going wide, he twisted his head to stare down at where the metal hand should be, and wasn’t.

It wasn’t completely gone. There was no port on his arm to take it on and off, and he was vaguely, sickeningly aware that parts of him were inside the metal, from some extra bone length to where the human nerves connected to mechanical ones. But it was stripped bare otherwise, taken apart and pulled away and left lying on the table next to him like a discarded toy set.

“Subject is conscious,” a voice reported, and Shiro tried to sit up to look around, but a strap over his chest stopped him. Then he tried to pull back his arm, but there was another just below the shoulder, holding it firm. He jerked again, trying to get free, but it was a near-mindless action as panic began to take over-

 _He was lying out, straps holding his chest down, the glow of drone helmets over him, keeping him in place, they were waiting for_ her _to arrive, he had been wounded but he hadn’t lost, why were they doing this, what was going on?_

But-

 _He was lying out, straps holding his chest down, the glow of monitors around him, they were keeping him in place, what were they waiting for? He had to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen, they needed to know but they were putting him out, no, he didn’t remember anything but he had to tell them about_ Voltron!

And-

“Should we re-sedate the subject?”

“Yes, but a half dose. Let’s not put them out again completely. Just abate some of this panic.”

Shiro strained and bucked and gasped, because-

There was a sharp pain in his arm.

 _There was a sharp pain in his arm, as_ she _prodded at his wound, the sharp tips of her claws digging in further. “This will take too long to recover from,” she pronounced, tutting at Shiro. “Look what you did to yourself. A month, at least. The favorite Champion cannot be out that long. I suppose I will have to deal with this.” There was nothing regretful in the tone, only gleeful, and the fingers dug in. “Take him to my lab.”_

Where-

_There was a sharp pain in his arm. A needle, a sedative, and between one breath and the next Shiro could feel it coming. The pain lessened, but the memory of it didn’t, the memory of the droids over him, was it a memory? Was this real? His vision hazed and faded, his eyes closed and he still didn’t know, had he even escaped? How long ago was that? Now?_

His vision hazed and faded, but didn’t give out. Neither did the panic, but his struggles lessened, drawn down by the increasing weight of his body. Slowly, he slumped back, unable to do anything but lie there and breathe.

“There we are.” Someone finally murmured soothingly, cloyingly. Like someone doing an impression of a doctor’s bedside manner. Shiro turned to look at them, his head swimming. “Nice and calm now, aren’t we? There’s no need to get so upset.”

No, not like a doctor. Like a vet, speaking calmingly to a startled dog. Sympathetic but knowing they were right, that this was the best thing, that the dog just didn’t know it.

Trying to claw his way through the mental fog and physical fatigue, Shiro narrowed his eyes. “W...what...?”

Wait, he knew this alien. Or this species, at least. They’d come here. Today? Yesterday? It had all blended together into one smear of confusion, like he’d watched his life on fast forward. This had been a group with advanced technology who had been turned into manufacturing for the Galra, and had jumped at the chance to do anything else. 

But they’d also been... not cold, really, but dismissive. When the paladins would say something, they’d be nodded at like children, then they’d speak with Allura instead. Their objections or comments were given the verbal equivalent of a pat on the head. Condescending was probably the right word.

It was right now, as well.

“We don’t have all the time in the world for this, you know,” the alien told him calmly, looking him up and down. “Your little teammates will be wondering about you again soon. And we need to finish by then, or else we won’t have learned everything we need about this wonderful arm of yours. And this will all be one big waste. You don’t want that, do you?” He patted Shiro’s shoulder calmly, then pulled over a monitor. 

It moved with the grab, and soon Shiro could see a video feed of what must have happened just before. Him, unconscious, strapped in, while the alien began to take him apart, piece by piece.

Shiro still didn’t even remember falling asleep.

“This arm really is a masterpiece,” the ‘doctor’ went on, seeming oblivious to Shiro’s stress. The amount of functionality and energy it can maintain, and the strength of it. The uses. Haggar’s creation, am I correct? Her work is devious and used for such evil, but always so well crafted. It’s signature, I can see it anywhere.” They ran their teal-colored hand over the casing of the arm, gaze distant. “If we could use it ourselves, we’d have a real, fighting chance. Finally. You understand, don’t you? We have to understand this, to be able to use it ourselves. To perfect this art-”

_”This is art,” she murmured, claws wrapped around Shiro’s arm, twisting it for her viewing pleasure. “This is my greatest creation so far.” She tapped along, and Shiro could feel it, each time it pressed down. It was part of him. “Those fools, those generals, they all think this is a science. That I take the same pieces and do the same thing and get the same results. But no, it’s unique to each subject, to my mentality when I perform. And this time I created something so wonderful, but so small. So simple.” She was whispering now, intimate and quiet. It wasn’t to Shiro. It was to herself and to her creation. He was just the body it was attached to._

The doctor tapped the casing, and Shiro couldn’t feel it at all. “Imagine, how we could make these for every soldier. A single Galra soldier would have no way of defeating anyone one-on-one, and an army of them...”

Rolling his head back, Shiro closed his eyes, concentrating. Then he strained again, trying to reach out and get himself free, or grab onto the doctor.

But the arm closest just wasn’t there at all, and he failed.

“This again?” The doctor frowned at him, annoyed now. “I’ve explained myself, you now know better. This was useless. Get him another dose.”

There was the sound of footsteps, a quiet acknowledgement behind him, and Shiro went wild as he could manage, thrashing against the bonds and the fatigue and his mind.

Then there was a bang, horribly loud in the otherwise quiet room, and flashes of light. Whoever had been working with the doctor screamed and crashed to the ground.

“What are you doing?” The doctor snarled, suddenly and viciously furious. “You’re interrupting.”

The crackle of electricity interrupted anything else he might have said, and there was a scream before another thump.

When Shiro turned to look, still blinking quickly to fight the sedative, Pidge was holding out her bayard, lips pulled back in a snarl. “Good,” she snapped at the unconscious form. Then she glanced over, expression immediately falling into concerned. “Shiro!” Then she noticed the parts, following the trail of them with her eyes. “Oh. Oh _no_.”

“What?” Hunk stepped over, following her gaze, and his eyes went wide too. “Oh, boy. Shiro, you okay?”

Once again, Shiro tried to sit up, only to be stopped cold by the restraints. “Drugged. Sedative. Stuck.”

Practically stomping out, Pidge sliced through the bands with her bayard, teeth set again. “Those fu-” She cut herself off and shook her head, then focused again. “You’re okay? You’re here?”

Shiro should have lied, should have tried to soften the blow and protected them. But that took so much energy, and he was so, so tired. “Not really.” 

Sighing, Hunk took one of the containers nearby and started to collect all the pieces of Shiro’s arm. “Don’t worry, we’re getting you out of here. We don’t have time to fix you back up right now, I’m really, really sorry. We will, but not now. Keith and Lance are covering for us, and that won’t last long, so unless we want to blast our way out of here, we need to get going.” He glanced up and frowned, expression dark. “I’m not against the blasting plan.”

“I am,” Shiro muttered back. “Takes too long.” He sat up, then tried to brace himself, only to crash back down because he’d tried to use his right hand. “Shit.”

Pidge braced her hands on Shiro’s side and pushed, helping him to sit back up. Then she braced her side against his until he was balanced properly. “Can you stand? We can carry you, then we’ll get you back to rights.” She bit her bottom lip, chewing on it. “But... I’m not sure what you’re seeing, Shiro.”

“Lab,” he replied quietly. “Just... in and out. Here right now. S’helping.” His eyes fell shut for a moment, then he nodded. “I can walk. Just lemme.” He had to move carefully, not wanting to knock off anything Hunk hadn’t managed to collect, but he got his feet on the ground. Then he stood.

And promptly teetered dangerously to the left.

He must have been compensating for the extra weight of the arm, because without it his right side felt like it was being tugged up. And when he tried to grab back at the bed, he used the arm that wasn’t there again, and just succeeded in making it worse.

Absurdly, as his balance started to go, Shiro thought of the footage they’d shown them of early 21st century astronauts. They would interview them after missions on space stations, and after months of zero gravity, they would learn to just drop items and let them hang. When they came back to Earth, they’d still do it, and everything crashed to the ground. Sometimes the astronauts wouldn’t notice for a couple of seconds.

He wondered if he’d done the same thing, in the beginning. He wouldn’t know.

“Woah!” Pidge grabbed him around his middle, keeping him upright. “Oh, um, heavy, okay. Hunk, can we trade?”

Glancing over, Hunk nodded. “Yeah, here.” He put the container down and moved to Shiro’s side, stooping to get under what was left of his shoulder. “Hey, buddy, we have you, don’t you worry.” Once Shiro was secure, Pidge scrambled out from between them and started to collect the pieces again.

She was careful, checking over and over that she wasn’t leaving behind screws or small pieces, and Shiro knew why. Who knew if this was all the parts of him. What happened if they left some behind? A bolt was one thing, since they could make those, but something important?

Once Pidge had given the place a final look over, even checking under the table to be sure, she nodded. While Shiro was still in most of his armor, she snagged his helmet off the counter, and put that in the container as well. Then they slipped out. “Okay, we have him,” she said into the helmet. “Sorry for the delay, there was a problem- oh. Um, I’m not sure... here, how about I put him on.” She took the helmet and held it up. “Bend down?” When Shiro ducked his head for her, she slipped it on. “There, say hi.”

“Hi,” he parroted obediently.

He heard a relieved sigh through the helmet. “Hey, there. You gotta quit doing this to us. Soon we’ll have as many white hairs as you do.”

Shiro snorted. “I have a head start, Lance. You won’t catch up.”

“Can we not get competitive over something like that?” Keith muttered. “Shiro, you okay?”

And because he was a little more awake and aware now that he was walking and not tied down, he gave the better answer. “Yeah, I’m good.”

There was a pause. “That was a stupid question,” Keith remarked.

“Kinda,” Hunk agreed. “We’re heading up now. Meet you at the Castle, okay?” He made a face. “I’m glad we didn’t fly the lions here. That’d be a problem.”

At first, Shiro thought it was because he was still out of it, but then he realized that the lack of a second arm would probably affect his flying. He’d have to rely heavily on the black lion’s autopilot, and if they were firing on them as they left.... He swallowed hard, suddenly uncomfortable.

It was one, annoying thing to forget about it and fall over. Shiro could live with that, for however long it took.

But for it affect his flying.

To be stuck forever, trapped.

 _A dark cell. Shiro paced through it, feet heavy and head slumping with fatigue. But he was trapped and he couldn’t stand to be still. Even when it hurt him, even though he should be resting, he needed to be moving, and maybe he’d warm up, because he was so cold here_.

He paced ahead, leaving heavily into the warmth next to him.

The arm tightened, and while Hunk didn’t speak, he did knock their helmets together gently. His hand squeezed comfortingly.

Okay. Shiro was here. He was here again. And he wasn’t alone this time. That was the difference, now. He wasn’t alone.

He’d be okay, as long as he had someone to lean on. Sometimes literally.

The door ahead of them opened, and he could see the sunlight, painfully bright to his tired eyes. 

Slumping, he let them carry him back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what else anyone was expecting from me.


	6. The World

A week later, and Shiro was regretting not censoring himself again. Because once Hunk, Pidge and Coran had put his arm back together, he noticed the paladins watching.

At first, he assumed it was because he had turned down the offer to make some adjustments. Frankly, he just wanted to stop reaching for things and missing, so he’d told them another time. And he meant that, too, just as soon as the thought of tools near his arm stopped making his chest go cold.

But neither Pidge nor Hunk brought it up after, and eventually he got the feeling the problem was something else, though he had no idea what. They’d put the arm through every test they could think of, and it was functioning like normal again. 

So, frankly, he had no idea what they were looking for. And given what a frustrating week this was, he figured he was fine it letting them come to him about it was the path of least resistance.

And so he did his best to not notice the looks. Especially during their downtime, like now. He settled against the arm of the couch, a pad of paper in front of him. He had a vague idea for how he could improve the steering on the junker bike they’d picked up months ago to make it more intuitive. So he’d started to sketch it out, to give Hunk a better idea of what he needed for machining later, when they had the time. But then he’d gotten distracted and started to just doodle bikes all over the page, and then possible helmet ideas just for fun.

What forms of padding did they have, anyway? For inside the helmet, and maybe for some sort of protective jacket, so he wouldn’t have to be in the armor while he was wearing it. The undersuits were well padded, but was there any kind of materials like that?

Hunk passed by, stepping past the couch, and Shiro glanced up. “Hey, Hunk.” He started to reach out with his metal hand, then paused and used the other instead. Once Shiro’d natural hand caught his wrist, Hunk paused and glanced down, brows up. “Do you know what we have-”

“Oh,” Lance murmured, head tilted. It was loud enough that Shiro paused to stare. “He does do that thing.”

Pidge glared at him and threw a pillow. “No, shut up. Not yet.”

Releasing Hunk’s arm, Shiro frowned. “Do what?”

He knew, and usually didn’t resent, that they talked about him while he wasn’t around. Talking about your commanding officer to yourselves was just a way of surviving. And god knows, he’d done the same thing. Commander Holt especially had been a good sport about it, letting Matt and Shiro grumble to each other when they needed to vent. It was who Shiro wanted to emulate most, in these situations. Now he just had more respect for it, since it was hard to keep his nose out of their business when they were clearly discussing him.

Still, as if he was going to let it go now.

Lance closed his mouth with an audible click and shook his head. “Nothing,” he chirped, as convincing as an actor in an Elementary school play.

Frowning, Shiro narrowed his eyes. “Keith?”

“No,” Keith replied, not even looking up. When Shiro continued to stare, he shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t spill.”

Lips thinning, he turned to Pidge, who only scowled back stubbornly. She would resist telling just because she had dug in her heels, by that point. No go.

So instead Shiro stared back up at Hunk, whose eyes went wide. Then he slowly raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon!” Hunk cried. “That’s not fair. I don’t want to be the one who breaks!”

Shiro continued to stare.

“Look at Lance again!” Hunk demanded, sinking to his knees to hide behind the armrest. “He’ll break in like two seconds.”

Lance let out an insulted gasp. “I will not! I’m a fortress. Impenetrable!” 

With careful, robot slowness, Shiro turned to stare at him.

Expression falling, Lance stared at him like he’d been slapped. “Oh. No. I don’t want to either!” He quavered, then glanced at Hunk. “You brought this on yourself. I don’t even feel bad anymore.” Then, carefully avoiding looking at Pidge, he glanced at Shiro’s arm. “You do the thing with your arms.”

Shiro paused, then looked down, clenching and releasing his hands. “What thing?”

Hunk groaned and picked his head up. He shot Lance an apologetic look, bottom lip sticking out. “Sorry, dude. And you... We just noticed you don’t touch people with the metal arm, when you can help it. That’s all.”

Oh. That. “Yes? Of course I do.” Shiro’s brow furrowed. “Usually. I can’t tell what temperature it is, so I don’t know if it’s too cold, and I’m not always sure I can tell how much pressure I’m applying with it. So I try not to, when I think about it.”

Pidge frowned. “Have you ever applied more pressure than you meant to?” Then she frowned. “Oh, with the cards, I guess. And that cup, you said. But both of those are fragile. You haven’t hurt anyone, I don’t think.”

Unable to help it, Shiro rolled his eyes. “Well, I haven’t exactly polled the soldiers if I was hitting with appropriate strength. So I can’t be sure.” Then he slumped, taking a deep breath. There was no need to be snippy. “I wasn’t aware anyone had noticed.”

“We weren’t aware you were that worried about it,” Keith replied, finally picking his head up and watching him. “It’s never been a problem when you do.”

Shiro shrugged one shoulder, glancing back down at his pad. Now that he had his answer, the conversation was pretty uninteresting to him. “Well, I keep an eye on it. And besides, I’m sure no one wants to have more contact with that arm then they need to. I wouldn’t.”

Another long silence. Long enough that Shiro frowned and looked back up. “What makes you think that?” Hunk asked quietly.

“Because I wouldn’t, like I said,” Shiro frowned. “And I have a weapon for an arm. It’s not exactly great for comfort. I thought it might ruin the effect of a hair musing or shoulder pat if it’s done with something that can cut through flesh.”

Letting out a quiet noise, Lance frowned. “It’s not- you don’t think that because of... When we first met I was startled, but it wasn’t like I was-” He stared at Shiro, eyes huge. “I wasn’t scared.”

Shiro’s lips quirked up. “Of course not,” he answered, for the sake of Lance’s pride rather than any real belief in that. But he froze when Lance just looked gutted. “Seriously, it’s fine, I don’t mind. It’s no big hardship to keep my own arms straight.”

“That’s not the point,” Pidge told him quietly. When Shiro just frowned at her, she sighed. “We’re not scared you’ll hurt us, and we don’t find it uncomfortable. It sucks that _you_ do.”

What? That just... didn’t make sense. 

Pidge groaned. “For the love of-” Standing, she moved over to sit next to Shiro, and clasped their hands together. Then she stared him down, jaw set and eyes bright with challenge.

Staring down at them, he looked at her again. “Seriously?”

“If it gets too tight I’ll tell you,” Pidge replied stubbornly. “Until then you’re going to let me hold your damn hand, and we’ll keep doing this until either we’re right or you’re right.”

Despite the way Shiro’s stomach was squirming, his lips quirked up. “By which you mean,” he paused, clearing his throat, then did his best to copy Matt’s most stubborn tone. “‘When I’m proven right, or else when we fall into an alternate universe in which you somehow manage to be correct.’”

Pidge shot him a toothy grin. “Exactly.” Then she snorted. “Your Dad impression is better than your Matt impression.”

“What Commander Holt impression?” Shiro asked, frowning.

“The eyebrow raise,” Pidge replied. “Just now. That was a Dad thing.”

Oh. Maybe. He hadn’t been trying to, but now that Pidge pointed it out, he could picture the exact look. 

Pidge didn’t seem to need a comment to that, and instead she poked Keith with her foot until he groaned and got up, retrieving her pad. Then she settled in comfortably, going back to what she’d been working on. From the looks of it, a puzzle game, though not one he’d seen before.

For a moment, Shiro continued to blink at their joined hands, stunned by the direction the conversation had gone. Then a hand settled on his other shoulder and he looked up. “Um. You needed something? We got distracted, but-” Hunk shot him a smile. 

“Right.” Shiro showed him the page of his notebook, trying his best to not see the doodles. “I was wondering what kind of padding material we had on board. You tend to do the most with the supplies, so I thought I’d ask you before digging through the materials log.”

Humming in thought, Hunk leaned against the side of armrest. “Well, actually, I did find some stuff recently that might be good for this. Especially the jackets.” He shot Shiro a smile, and he returned it easily.

Pidge stayed holding on through the whole conversation, until they got up for dinner. As soon as she let go, Lance rushed in to take her place, practically snuggling into his arm. “I wasn’t scared,” he repeated, this time barely above a whisper. “I was nervous, not because of the arm, but because... well, I kinda admired you before.”

Oh. Huh. Shiro had honestly never considered that someone might be nervous to meet him for that reason, even after all the press circuit nonsense they’d done for Kerberos. “I believe you,” he told Lance, more honestly this time, and got a beaming smile in return. “Sorry, I probably didn’t end up as cool as you thought, huh?”

“Nope,” Lance replied easily, swinging their joined hands between them. Shiro snorted but made no attempt to stop him. “But I like you better this way, so there.”

Ducking his head, Shiro didn’t manage to hide his smile.

After dinner, Hunk held his hand as they went looking through the materials. “This is what I was telling you about,” he said as he reached forward, taking down a mound of cloth. When he placed in on the table for Shiro to see, it hit with a heavy thump.

“It’s like leather,” Shiro mused, brows up. “Is it some kind of hide?”

Hunk shrugged. “I’m not sure. Would leather survive 10,000 years? The place was closed down pretty tightly, though, so I can’t tell you. If it’s a synthetic version, it’s really good. It’d be good for those jackets.” He paused, then squeezed Shiro’s hand. “And, if you’re really worried about temperature, you could make gloves for this. That way you don’t have to worry about it at all.”

Shiro glanced sideways at Hunk and gave a small smile. “It’s a good thought. Thank you.” Then he paused. “I actually have no idea how to sew.”

“Oh,” Hunk paused. “Looks like we’re including Lance in this. And you know that means he’ll want a leather coat too.”

And at that point, everyone was going to want one. Oh, the joys of balancing between the four. “Alright, let’s make sure we get enough for everyone,” Shiro muttered, and Hunk finally let go so they could both load up.

After that, Shiro thought it was going to be the end of it. But later, Keith pulled him aside, asking him to check his form on a technique, and after, he snagged Shiro’s hand in his own.

“You don’t have to,” Shiro told him, half worried and half amused. He’d never known Keith to be particularly demonstrative physically.

Keith frowned right back. “I want to, if it’ll help.” His jaw was set, but after a moment he softened. “I don’t mind. If that’s what you’re thinking. There’s not really a reason I don’t touch, normally. I’m just never sure when it’s okay, and I know sometimes I’d not want to, so....”

Smiling softly, Shiro reached over and ruffled his hair with his other hand. “Okay. That’s fine. I appreciate it from all of you guys.”

That got him a nod, then Keith glanced up at him. “But I’m not gunna swing our hands around or anything. That can be Lance’s job.”

“I think he’d be offended if you try and take it,” Shiro replied back, and laughed when Keith muttered that he was always offended.

And, no, it didn’t make Shiro less conscious of his metal arm. He was still aware of it, usually, and when he wasn’t it never lasted long.

But maybe that awareness didn’t have to be a bad thing, not when he had the others around to remind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Then they all got rad jackets and it was cool. The end.
> 
> And that's all she wrote! (...very literally) Hope you all enjoyed.
> 
> Next week, we begin something very new, and continue along with the last 5 thing of Spectrum.
> 
> (It's the Leverage AU. I'll post the Leverage AU next week).

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, you can follow me at bosstoaster.tumblr.com! I also take suggestions/prompts. Literally all the time. HMU.


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